The Flipside of Sadness is Love
by AwkwardTurtle007
Summary: Mihael Keehl's life sucked, until he moved to Wammy's house, and met Mail Jeevas. Suddenly, life starts getting pretty good...until he isn't picked for being L's successor. MattxMello R&R Rating may change


**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or its characters.**

_December 17__th__, 1996_

"You little faggot!" Hristo Keehl screamed at his seven year old son. "You fucking screwed with my beer, didn't you?" The boy, Mihael, shook his head, and stuck his thumb in the corner of his mouth, trembling.

"He didn't touch it, Father!" a girl screamed back. She wasn't very old-she had only hit teenage-hood a few days previously, a feat she thought she would never reach. "I did." Mihael tugged at his sister's hand, attempting to warn her of the carnage that was about to come.

"Ruzha!" he hissed around the thumb in his mouth. Ruzha made no move to respond to her brother's demand. Hristo seemed confused as what to do-for lack of better explanation, he punched his daughter in the face, and then kicked her when she was down. All he had to do was push Mihael; the kid was probably topped the scales at forty, if that. Ruzha probably hit sixty, or seventy. Hristo spat once in Ruzha's face before storming off to the nearest bar. He wouldn't be back for hours, drinking all their money away, and when he came back, he would worse than ever, trying to get his own daughter and son in bed with him. Ruzha could only protect Mihael from so much.

She got up first, in order to get her brother back on his feet. If she didn't look so anorexic, Mihael supposed she could be quite pretty. Blonde waves the color of wheat that flowed gently to the small of her back, rose lips, a heart shaped face, long lashes, making her blue eyes look like they were framed by ebony. But the fact they seemed too large in her face was what threw her off.

"Don't worry little duckling," she teased, in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, "one day your genius will be appreciated or my modeling skills"-she struck a silly pose, sucking in cheeks so she looked like a fish-"will get us out of this hellhole." Mihael laughed, but then silenced himself. _Little Mihael_, Ruzha thought, _so sweet, so innocent, so emotional—he doesn't belong in this picture._

"Ruzha," Mihael started. "If...if Mama hadn't died, do you think life would be better for us?"

Ah. Touchy subject, touchy subject, touchy subject. The only reason Irina Maleeva and Hristo Keehl had even gotten married was the whole simple _if-we-don't-get-married-our-daughter-is-going-to-be-a-bastard_ shit. Yeah...that's why Ruzha sustains more abuse than Mihael: it's because she is, in Hristo's words, a bastard child.

And yet...her mother actually cared for her daughter. In fact, when she was born in 1983, Irina actually thought her daughter as a...person. Not as a thing like her father, but like Irina's mother had treated Irina. And that's what made Ruzha love her mother so much.

And for Hristo to hate Irina.

Hristo would lay into Irina constantly-both emotionally and physically. Irina started working, in an attempt to get away from her husband. Ruzha and Irina were both thankful when they discovered the place where Irina was working had an on-site daycare.

And then Irina discovered she was pregnant with Mihael.

There were even more...complications than there were with Ruzha. Hristo was well into drugs and alcohol by this time, and there was no turning back. Irina would sleep in Ruzha's room, but it still didn't stop the late night arguments that Ruzha hid under her quilt with her hands curved delicately over her ears.

The 'official' cause of Irina's death was complications from childbirth.

Ruzha didn't believe it, and she was fairly certain the rest of the town didn't, because the day after her mother's funeral, her father moved to Sofia. Pretty much close to the bad part of town.

Heh. She didn't even know capitals _had_ bad parts of town. But there they lived, the drunken drug addict known as Hristo, the little blonde girl known as Ruzha, and the genius child, Mihael. It didn't take Ruzha long to find out that Mihael was a genius child. When he was two years old, he walked into the bedroom he and Ruzha shared, and grabbed one of her schoolbooks. Her reading one.

"Mihael, no!" she had groaned, and reached over to grab it from him. He backed away, and in defiance, read part of one of the stories out loud.

"Anastas knew that the only way he could get him and Viktor out of those cells was if Galina came through for them and was able to impersonate one of the guards. It was common knowledge for him, but he wasn't sure if it was the same for Viktor. He tapped on the wall next to him in hope that—hey! Ruzha!" Ruzha had finally managed to snatch the book back from him, but she stared at her little brother in wonder. A two year old shouldn't be able to read-yet Mihael was able to do fluently, and with ease.

"Mihael," she started tentatively, "did Mrs. Penev teach you how to read?" Mrs. Penev was a 'daycare nurse' of sorts for the children on the block of flats Ruzha and Mihael lived at. Ruzha would drop Mihael off at her apartment on her way to school, and then pick him up when school was finished. Mihael shook his head.

"No. She doesn't have enough time," he responded, more fluently than any normal two year old should respond with.

"But...who taught you?" Ruzha inquired.

"I taught myself!" Mihael replied brightly. Skeptical, Ruzha made Mihael read some of the fairy tales out of the book she had received when she was four. He responded to each challenge with a sort of cockiness, until he had read through the entire book.

There was no mistaking it. Mihael could read.

In time, Ruzha discovered he was excellent at other things, such as remembering where she had put down her best friend's hair ribbon when she had tossed it down carelessly along her own belongings. He could help her out with some basic math problems that she was trying to scurry through. He could make hypotheses on plants, life-anything really, just so long as he knew about it.

In fact, it wasn't until Mihael started school did Ruzha realize he was different. He didn't like playing with children his own age; instead, he would be hanging around Ruzha's year. While everyone moaned in the beginning, they soon accepted the boy.

But then their father forced them to leave school in the February of Mihael's first year, with his reason being that "You know enough."

"But, Father, I don't!" Mihael had wailed. "My school career is just beginning! I can already read books that are meant for Ruzha's age level, and even the teachers think I could move to her class. Now you say I have to quit?"

Hristo raised his fist at the boy. "That's exactly what I'm saying! What, do you expect me to do a fancy pants explanation like they do at your beloved school, boy? Or should I say, 'girl'. If a person didn't know better, they would think you were a girl! Are you gay?" He punched Mihael on the jaw, and called him a "fag" before he hobbled out the door. Mihael lay on the filthy thing called a 'carpet', tears flowing down his face.

"Mihael?" Ruzha asked. "Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry, baby, I shouldn't have just watched. Ssh." Ruzha wrapped her arms around her five year old brother, and sang a song their mother had sung to her when she was upset. "_When at night I go to sleep, fourteen angels watch do keep; two my head are guarding, two my feet are guiding; two on my right hand, two on my left hand, two who warmly cover, two who o'er me hover, two whom 'tis given, to guide my steps to heaven_." Ruzha gently started rocking her brother back and forth, keenly aware that her shirt was sodden with his tears and snot. Yet, while he was in the snorting-trying-to-stop phase, she was aware he wanted to know how the song ended. Taking a deep breath, she began the second verse.

"_Sleeping softly, then it seems, Heaven enters in my dreams; angels hover round me, whisp'ring they have found me; two are sweetly singing, two are garlands bringing, strewing me with roses as my soul reposes. God will not forsake me, when dawn at last will wake me_." Mihael snorted once, and resigned himself by listening to his sister's heartbeat.

"Ruzha? Ruzha, are you alright?" Ruzha was shocked out of her thoughts. This was no time to be thinking about the past. This was the time to be thinking about the future, and the present. Such as trying to get food for that evening.

"Yes, Mihael, don't worry your little head off. I'm fine," she said, tickling the child in front of her in his armpits. He squealed delightedly, but then he remembered Ruzha didn't answer his question and told her so.

Ruzha bit her lip, trying to find a response. Finally, she said, "I don't know, Mihael. We could only know if Mama lived."

"Oh." Mihael was quiet for a moment, but then shrugged. "Do you want to go out and get dinner then?" He opened the door and ran outside.

"H-hey, crazy boy, you forgot your shoes!" Ruzha chased after her brother, despite forgetting her own shoes, but then again, they were getting kind of tight. She found him leaning over the railing that separated the 7th floor from the stairs. "Mihael?"

"Father's home early," he whispered. Ruzha leaned over and saw that their father was coming home, drunk and carrying...

"Oh..." she gasped. "Oh my god." She grabbed Mihael around the waist and ran back to their apartment. Adrenaline was pulsing through her veins and she looked around for a good place to hide Mihael. It didn't matter if she died that night, but Mihael was the one who needed to survive. For lack of a better place, she hid him in the old wardrobe in their room.

"Rue...what's going on?" he asked. He was trembling like a leaf, and she took his trembling hands in her own, which were shaking quite badly themselves.

"I don't know, Mihael. Remember that whatever happens tonight, I'll always love you. Don't come out until he leaves again." The front door was opening, and Hristo started calling for his children. His voice was slurred. Several tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she bit her lip to stop the sobs from wracking her body. Ruzha could even bring herself to say good-bye to her own brother. She closed the doors.

The only things Mihael could hear now were his own panicked, frightened breaths, and the blood rushing around his head. He couldn't let his sister do whatever she was intending to do! He had to stop her.

He stepped out of the wardrobe and hesitated, hoping no-one heard the door creak. Nothing. No response at all. He let out a breath of relief and tip-toed to the door.

Mihael had barely taken two steps when a gunshot went off, and his sister started screaming.

**A/N: So, what did you think? Your first thought would be: OMG KlavierGirl's back from the dead! Yes, I am, lovelies, but sadly, for those other stories...really bad writer's block. REALLY BAD. Anyway, I gave Mello a sister 'cause I thought it would make the story more sweet. MattxMello stuff to come, I promise!**


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